Contagious Zombielock (BBC Sherlock FanFiction)
by xLordoftheRingsx
Summary: A strange form of the influenza is spreading around London. When assigned an especially interesting case, Sherlock is determined to get to the bottom of it. As Sherlock continues to work on the case, John notices that Sherlock seems much paler than usual and is receiving strange scabs along his arms and legs. Will John save Sherlock before it's too late?


_"Breaking news: A new form of the swine flu has arisen. While many scientists are left baffled with this strange outbreak, many have already gotten to work on an antidote. Many first-stage symptoms are the ones of a common cold. But don't be fooled, for that's only the beginning. Only 2 to 3 days after diagnosis, the disease progresses into the more advanced stages of the virus which consist of symptoms such as violent coughing, trouble breathing and tightening of airways, terrible stomach aches, constant migraines, and strange bulges appearing along the scalp. At this point it is highly recommended that those infected are taken into quarantine to prevent further spreading of the virus. Many are advised to remain indoors or to wear protective gear such as face masks and clothing which covers as much skin as possible when heading out. This is Walt Batlerman reporting from NBN2, and I wish you a healthy week. Now, let's move onto-"_ John Watson pressed the off button on the T.V. remote a bit too harshly, tossing the darn thing onto the nearby loveseat.

"This will be a bloody fine week." The army doctor hissed under his breath, and adjusted his position on the recliner he sat in. Right then Sherlock casually strolled into the room.

He was wearing a tight black t-shirt as well as corresponding loose jeans and socks. His brown curls were partially matted to his head and were glistening with water, indicating that he had just taken a shower. The detective walked past John and grabbed John's laptop off of the table, despite the fact that his own was just a few inches away. John opened his mouth to say something, but he closed it as Sherlock plopped in his chair across from the recliner John sat it. The detective opened the laptop and waited a moment for it to startup. A few moments of silence passed before Sherlock was typing away furiously at what John guessed was an email.

"New case," the detective finally said, confirming John's thoughts. The ex-army doctor raised his eyebrows inquisitively, but then glanced at the detective and then outside the window at the gray and gloomy sky, "Lestrade wants to start working on it first thing tomorrow." Sherlock finished, not looking up from the laptop at all throughout this entire time.

"You do realize there's been an outbreak of that new influenza virus, and any sort of work being done outside-"

"Will leave me prone to the virus? Pfft, hogwash." The detective interjected. John furrowed his eyebrows together and pursed his lips.

"Sherlock," John said, his tone serious and commanding. Sherlock finally looked up and his mesmerizing eyes met John's. The army doctor was taken by surprise with Sherlock's sudden attention to him and the man was at lost for words for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued, "This isn't some mere cold one could catch. There were extreme cases where many even died, and I've dealt with some of them. This isn't some joke."

"You worry too much," Sherlock chuckled and flashed John his signature grin, "You know that I don't bother about these things. I'm practically immune." With this response John tensed up and frowned. Sherlock obviously didn't care, or didn't listen to what John had just said about the disease.

"Immune, my arse." John muttered under his breath and looked away from Sherlock. When the detective cleared his throat John looked back to see that Sherlock was looking at him with a colder manner; he had heard the remark. John didn't muster up an apology and simply stared back at Sherlock. The two didn't exchange words but their stares carried enough messages to the point where they both looked away awkwardly. "At least get a vaccination." John offered, his tone less serious and more pleading in some aspect. Sherlock didn't look up from the laptop and didn't say anything in response either.

The doctor rolled his eyes and rose from the recliner, heading over to the kitchen to set the water to boil. After the water had grown hot, John pulled a cup from the above cupboards and placed it near the kettle. He considered making something for Sherlock, and as much as he didn't want to due to the detective's attitude, he pulled out another cup anyways. John grabbed a nearby can containing the black coffee of the household and he dumped one spoon in Sherlock's cup and one into his own. He poured some boiled water into both cups and then dropped two sugars into Sherlock's coffee and none into his own.

To conclude, he set both cups aside to cool off for a moment as John then leaned back against the counter and found some sudden interest in a certain piece of china in the cabinets.

"I'll consider it." Sherlock called out suddenly, disrupting John's train of thought. The doctor batted at eye at the detective sitting in the living room. He had placed the laptop to the side and was leaning forward, staring intently at John.

"What?"

"The vaccination. I'll consider it. Although I must say that eating apples and taking vitamin pills should suffice." Sherlock added. John saw the ghost of a grin on Sherlock's face and he himself felt the corners of his lips lift for some unknown reason.

"Sounds good. And you haven't touched an apple in weeks, more or less the vitamin pills, so don't even suggest that solution." The doctor stated in response, chuckling.

John grabbed the two cups after they had cooled off and walked back into the living room. He handed Sherlock's his coffee and John placed his on a nearby stool as he relaxed back into the recliner, only then grabbing the cup again. He brought it up to his lips and savored the bitter, yet rejuvenating taste. Sherlock simply stared down at his coffee, his eyes searching the pool of black liquid.

"Something wrong? Black. Two sugars. Just how you like it." John stated, taking another sip of his coffee as he watched Sherlock curiously. The detective didn't stir in his seat but just continued to stare down at the coffee. Only after a minute or two passed this Sherlock snap out of his thoughts and look up at John blankly.

"Good." Sherlock stated, his voice and gaze distant, and placed the cup onto the table in-between the two men. John pondered over Sherlock's strange behavior for a moment before realizing that the detective had gotten up and had begun to pull his trench coat on. Sherlock wrapped his dark blue-gray scarf around his neck and avoided John's disapproving gaze as he came back by the doctor to grab his phone.

"And where are you off to? Where's your face mask or whatever you use to cover up your mouth and nose?" John demanded calmly, his eyebrows furrowed. Sherlock opened the flat door and stepped out without a response. Only when he peeked back in and stared directly at John did he reply.

"Told you already. New case," Sherlock stated, and disappeared again. John turned away from the door and sighed, flailing his arms in frustration. Just then Sherlock leaned into the flat once again, causing John to grow slightly startled but then recover and flash Sherlock a glare, "Ah yes, and I never used any sort of cover or mask. So don't fuss about me forgetting it." And with that, the detective left the flat. John gaped at the door even after it closed after Sherlock.


End file.
